


First Love's Cider

by Marvelle Petit (petitmelon)



Series: First Love's Cider [1]
Category: Rune Factory 4
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 09:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22967584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petitmelon/pseuds/Marvelle%20Petit
Summary: A series of slightly connected one-shots themed around Arthur and Frey.  Arthur is torn between duty and following his heart.This was previously uploaded on ffnet many moons ago. It's been edited and some parts rewritten. Happy Remaster Release~!
Relationships: Arthur/Frey (Rune Factory)
Series: First Love's Cider [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650574
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	First Love's Cider

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before seeing Arthur's event, so on the plus side, there are no spoilers! On the other side, it doesn't follow the game at all! Hehe

At first, Arthur regarded her as a serendipitous opportunity. Everyone already thought of her as the princess by time he arrived (though Frey and Arthur sounded nothing alike and exactly how they came to think of them as interchangeable was beyond his reasoning) and it gave him the chance to live without the title of prince looming over his head.

The arrangement proved difficult. She knew absolutely nothing about everything. Her skills? Abysmal. The butlers helped out where they could, but every afternoon she always hobbled into his office, covered in sweat and dirt, asking questions upon questions upon questions. 

At first, he worried her constant council would make the villagers suspect he was really the prince. It took three weeks to alleviate that fear. Yet, when the sun dyed his office gold. he found himself going to Porco and requesting tea for two. He told himself it was only proper manners. It was also proper to notice she preferred two cubes of sugar and a splash of milk in her tea. He would do such a thing for anyone, even if she was the only one who received that benefit currently.

Who knew how long this arrangement could last, especially if Father decided to make an impromptu visit. He would not be happy Arthur discarded his title for personal benefit.

As the days turned to weeks turned to months, she came by less and less. He stopped preparing tea for two. He stopped glancing at the window when the office became gold. He stopped expecting her and focused entirely on his work.

He still saw her around town, usually accompanied by one of the townsfolk, wearing that ever-present smile of hers. If she happened to see him, she'd wave and keep walking. She understood now, the amount of work required for the job, and simply let him be.

But she also did not ignore him entirely.

Around the time she stopped seeing him daily, she began leaving him meals accompanied by a short note. The first one was a small plate of rice balls. Misshapen, crudely assembled, but still tasted delicious. The note read, "I saw your light on late last night. I know you're busy, but don't forget to eat."

And just as everything else, her meals began becoming more elaborate and better prepared. She seemed to rival Porcoline now, if not to others, but at least to him. The small plates and short notes were what he looked forward to each day. Especially since she had a knack for knowing exactly what he loved. The villagers had no privy to this information; it had to be that natural gift that made her friends with everyone.

He settled into the routine nicely and enjoyed the notes and the meals that awaited him. He kept every one inside a drawer in his desk. They nearly filled it completely. He had to press down on the stack in order for it to fit. He couldn't bring himself to toss them away. 

* * *

As Arthur entered his office that afternoon, he saw the familiar sight of a plate on his desk, covered in beescloth. He set aside the note on top and lifted up the cloth. A trio of turnips, artfully arranged by color and size. He grinned. This one he would have to make a point to run into her and thank her personally.

He picked up the letter and unfolded it.

_I looked at your schedule book and noticed you were free at seven. I penciled myself in, so see you then!_

Seven?

Arthur glanced at the clock. Less than twenty minutes from now.

He swallowed and dashed over to the restaurant, nearly crashing into Dylas.

"Hey, man, watch it!" Dylas snapped in his usual brusque tone. "What's got you wound up?"

"Can you make me tea for two?" His voice reflected his nerves. "And something sweet. She likes strawberry cake. Do you have any?"

"Yeah."

"Thank you, Dylas."

Dylas sauntered off, waving his arm in the air in an impromptu goodbye. Arthur went back into his office and paced back and forth. _Why do I feel this nervous?_

It's not like they hadn't seen each other in a while. He saw her yesterday, in fact. Nothing outside normal, a quick greeting and small talk... 

Maybe she had a question about something?

But she didn't have any questions for months.

It didn't feel right. She set out his favorite dish, looked into his schedule book, and asked to meet. Normally she wouldn't be formal at all.

Did she want to give up her title?

Did she want to leave?

If she wanted to leave, what would make her stay?

And now he sat in the plush leather seat, staring at the large grandfather clock, watching the seconds tick by until nineteen hundred.

She burst through the door fifteen minutes early.

They looked at each other and awkwardly smiled. "Hey!" she said in her cheerful voice. "Umm, it's a beautiful day out."

"It is," he agreed.

The day long passed and it approached night. Neither verbalized the contradiction. After all, that was normal talk. Comfortable talk.

Awkward silence.

She sat across from him and twisted the hem of her skirt, not meeting his gaze. Her hands wore the callous of days of hard work. Guilt sank into his stomach. She worked hard for the people and him. How could he ask her to stay after that? Ask her to give more than she already gave? If she wanted to leave, he would congratulate her on whatever new endeavor she desired to do. Even offer to help see her off, make sure her new place was perfectly prepared. "You wanted to talk to me about something?"

She looked straight into his eyes and took a deep breath. Hints of pink highlighted her cheekbones. "I love you."

The words hit him like a stack of stones. He blinked.

Love?

Him?

Of all the things she could have said, _that_ was not something he ever expected.

She kept her gaze firm, cheeks fully red, and said nothing more. Was she joking? She seemed serious, but to say that abruptly, without any sort of pretense... "That's a cruel joke."

"No!" The table thumped with the force of her hands slamming down on it. "I _really_ love you!" The forcefulness of her objection seemed to surprise her. She fell back to the chair and covered her face with embarrassment. "I practiced so many times today and I didn't say any of it right."

His chest tightened. She didn't want to leave, no, the opposite. He took a shaky breath. Arthur the civilian would accept without a second thought. But that was his mask, and Arthur the prince had several things to worry about, especially when it came to romance. "Can I think about it tonight?"

Her eyes widened. She nodded. "Y-yeah. Of course. Can I stop by tomorrow morning?"

"I'll meet you at the square at ten. Is that alright?"

Her pigtails bounced as she nodded. "Yes!" She rose and nearly dashed out the room. "I'll see you then!"

He stared at the closed door as he tried to calm his racing heart. She loved him. He replayed the memory of her words over and over like a broken record. Elation lifted his body as a huge grin spread across his face. Just as the emotion reached its zenith, it crashed down abruptly. A long sigh left his lips as he rubbed his temple.

What would Father think, first of all? He always assumed he would be married off like every royal before him. Father was more lenient than others, after all, he sent him here without any sort of pomp, yet marrying a commoner could cross the line of tolerance. As much as he hated his birthright, he was the only one in line for the throne, and he could not escape that reality.

But to call Frey a normal commoner betrayed all her talents and wisdom.

In fact, she was a princess in all but birthright. She won the hearts of the people, she worked hard on their behalf, and she governed them well and fairly. At first, that final part made him nervous, but like everything else, she took to it with a flair of all her own. He could very well pass her off as a princess without anyone suspecting anything until it came time to sign the papers and meet the royals in-law. She deserved more than that. If he defied tradition, he would parade her as the perfect example that birthright did not make the person's fate.

He closed his eyes. Did he not save a stack of notes in his drawer, notes that were useless in all but sentimentality? Did he not glance around like a tourist on his walks, not studying the scenery, but to catch a glimpse of her? Did he not come down the stairs every day with an excited thought of what meal awaited him? Did his heart not surge every time he saw her smile?

He laughed. "You can't deny it anymore, can you?"

In the land of commerce, there was no reward without a modicum of risk involved. The greater the risk, the greater the reward. Besides, before marriage came dating. There was nothing wrong with going on dates, and should they not be right for each other, they would split.

But should she be his perfect match, every fiber of his being would dedicate itself to the cause of proving their relationship valid and worthy.

Hedging blindly into the unknown was not his style, but so long as she was by his side, they could make it.

"Yes, I love you too," he whispered.

Tomorrow, a new chapter of their lives would begin.


End file.
